


Miscreation

by poptod



Series: The Love of the Forsaken [1]
Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Invasion, M/M, Magic, Trust, story heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: The poet speaks -A curious storyOf Foreign Lands and PeoplesA pleading Child, dreaming at the firesideA Blind Man’s Bluff, almost too serious, of an important eventAnd the child falling asleep, turns to frightening Knight of black steedAnd it is almost happy enough.(You're a magician in Ancient Egypt, but you have to keep your magic secret, as it isn't quite 'normal' magic. The youngest prince takes a liking to you.)
Relationships: Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)/Reader
Series: The Love of the Forsaken [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632703
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Miscreation

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I implore you to read this as a book where you're one of the main characters. This isn't as much a fanfiction as it is a story.  
> There is a mention of someone changing skin colors. I really hope I didn’t offend anyone as that was not my intention whatsoever. Basically, you sort of change from what you look like now into yourself but 6’ (the average person back then was around 5’4”) and your skin is black (as in the color, not the race) and your hair is white. Being tall was not attractive at all back then, sorry :(.  
> Warning: This is an EXTREME SLOWBURN. I have another part planned, where more will happen.  
> *Aur - Nile River  
> **Ahket - Inundation Season (flooding)  
> ***Egyptians believed the brain was useless. All thought originated from the heart for them, so you’re referring to how half his brain (heart, for them,) is gone.  
> ****Rushlight - Early version of a candle that lasted a much shorter time.  
> To my usual readers: I'm sorry for not posting for so long! Finals really kicked my ass and I've been writing a lot of fics that I can't seem to finish. Glad I finished at least the first part of this one even if I hate the guts out of it

As the world came to be, magic was instilled within it. It was up to humans to decide where that magic was though - and it was a line you simply couldn’t establish. It’s in the skies, they said, and in our souls. Others would say that it simply did not exist. It’s in the structures we build and the art we make, they said. But it intertwines in your fingers, and the future shines through blind eyes, and though you may not look it, magic runs through your essence. So, in all of Kemet, you were most likely one of the very few people who really knew what magic was.

The high priests and priestesses read from old books that gave shoddy and false potions, with spells and mixtures that did naught but smell awful. You knew, even as a child, that you would never turn down that path. Not only because the reading would be simply awful and very few would believe you, but because of your standing; a half blind, abandoned child in the desert, a cloth over their eyes and wrapped in silk, would never climb very far in life. However, under the protection of the man by the name of Adom who had picked you up, the unwanted child, you stayed in his shop, working for him, and generally living a pleasant life. He never had very much, but he was somewhat of a father, and had his own gift in magic.

“You were born with a gift,” he would tell you as a child. “Not many at all will understand it.”

The year you turned nine, Adom was put under the employ of the palace, as a private consort. His main job was to tell the future, to heal and protect, and in respect to your privacy, not once did he ever mention your own talents.

“In your own time,” he told you when you asked.

You stood behind your father, practically cowering, as the pharaoh spoke of his new duties. He prattled on for quite a while, but your grip on Adom’s skirt did not lessen. As he bowed, and made to leave to new chambers, the pharaoh halted him.

“What is that behind you?” He asked in a soft, and mildly intrigued voice. He leaned forward in his throne, resting his chin on his intertwined hands. You gulped, shrinking further behind Adom.

“This is my child, Piye,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you into the pharaoh’s vision. Despite your fear, you stood tall, keeping your eyes forward.

“Is it going to be staying with you…?”

Adom nodded a yes.

He turned to his wife, sitting next to him, and spared a quick glance at his two sons to his right. The couple whispered to each other for only a minute, before the two of you were once more dismissed. Clutching Adom’s hand so tight your knuckles began to ache, you followed him out of the room.

From that day on, your already hectic life changed drastically into an even more frenetic life. In all sessions you stayed with your father, watching silently from beside him as he worked his own magic in special ways you desperately wished to learn. On the days he had little to do, he sent you off on chores, purchasing different ingredients for both food and spells. With access to all knowledge needed, purchasing books no longer became a problem. Your only main problem was your socialization issue.

He was so lonely, the kings’ youngest son. His brother, as you could tell from their limited interactions, did not get along well with him. Until you came along, it was just the two of them. Yet your anxiety was in such a state that for two whole years you didn’t even know their names. By the time you were eleven, the younger prince was twelve, and the eldest fourteen, and the siblings fighting was at an all time high.

From the corner of the mostly-empty room you watched them bicker, which mostly consisted of the elder throwing verbal abuse at the younger while the younger deflected it with pure intellect and cruelty. Something must’ve struck a nerve, as the eldest stormed off, and the younger sat on the floor and began to cry.

Feeling your heart pound, you made slow footsteps till you made it to the center of the room, and kneeled down beside the boy.

“Is everything okay?” You asked in a meek voice, your mind reminding yourself over and over again that one wrong move could get you killed. Were you supposed to even be speaking with him? Your palms began to sweat at the thought.

“Yes, I’m…” he sniffed, wiping his cheeks dry, “I’m alright. Kahmuh is - he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t you asked, “what did he say?” in just as quiet a voice as before.

“Jus’ something about my parents,” he mumbled.

You sat fully down, wrapping your arm over his shoulders. Somehow finding comfort in your touch, he leaned in, and soon his crying stopped.

For the next two years you remained friends with the boy, protecting him in instances with his brother, and defending him in the various arguments he’d get into. Overall, you found very little difference in the siblings. Both were entitled, and neither had a very well developed sense of sympathy or empathy. Rather, both boys were so entranced with their own selves that the only real reason you could find them talking to you is if they were fighting over you again.

You, over time, had become part of their feud, like a prize to be won, and from the moment you realized this it sickened you. By your third year in the palace, Adom took you aside. 

“When I was your age, 14, I went on a sort of mission,” he said, kneeling to your height as he was monstrously tall. His hand stayed on your shoulder as he spoke to you, keeping your eye from straying in the torchlit hallway. “I looked for myself in the desert, and I sat atop a hill for many days till I… changed. It was just as mental as it was physical. But…” he paused, looking down with a shaky breath, “I’m giving you a choice. You don’t have to do this.”

For a moment you processed his words, contemplating the consequences of either action. To be perfectly frank you had no idea what 'finding yourself' meant, and what physical changes would happen to you. Was it different for every person? So you asked, and each answer felt satisfying. 

“What kind of changes happened?”

“My hair grew long, and turned stark white. I also grew very, very tall. I was about your height before. And I could see the future much clearer than ever before. It seemed so simple, and it still is.”

“And… looking for yourself? What does that mean?”

“If you’ve ever felt like you don’t know yourself, or as though you are watching your own life pass as you can do naught but watch, this will get rid of it.”

“Are there any downsides to this whole thing?”

He sucked in a breath, and proceeded to explain what this journey would fully be. You would wander into the desert with only the clothes you wore daily, and you would walk along the Aur* for as long as it was deemed possible for two days. Then, looking out around the land, you would find climb to the highest peak, and sit, until the change happened.

“Will I not starve?” You asked quietly.

“There is food along the nile, and during your meditation, the gods will keep you alive.”

You had your doubts. But you trusted him more than you trusted yourself, and he was encouraging you. And, thinking back to the awful past years you’d been having, you thought a year alone might do some good. 

Taking nothing, you left in the dead of night, and by morn the pharaoh was glad to see you gone. Though you weren’t sure if the pharaoh actually hated you, it was rather obvious he had a thing against people who couldn’t see very well. Even with his prejudice, he didn’t all together ban you from the palace - you knew Adom was far too important to simply cast out.

For two days you walked beside the Aur, coming across people that would thin once the city grew far off in the distance. By the first night, you made it to Lisht, passing by without stop. _Walk for as long as you can, until you hit the two day mark._

In the morning, your speed has decreased horribly, and by evening, you made it halfway to El Lahun before collapsing in the heat below a shading tree. Panting, you looked around for any source of food. The water was behind you, you could hear the slow churning of water, but it was hardly very clean. Ahket** had already come to claim the land. As your head turned to the side, a spark of red caught your eye. Standing slowly, you walked over to it, finding red berries.

“Hopefully not poisonous,” you breathed out, shoving several in your mouth.

For the next week you spent your hours looking for the tallest peak, using your magic to seek it out and climbing said peak when it was finally discovered. There you sat, wind blowing through your hair, as you waited for answers to come. In that time, you grew, and your skin began to change. The color began to fade, being replaced with the darkest shade of night, as the hair atop your head grew into bright white.

The path returning home was easier. In the water, you could see your reflection, noticing you really looked just the same - only in seeming contrast. Your vision was much better than it ever had been, though not perfect. In a rather confused state, stumbling over rocks and knocking into tree branches, you realized being tall would take some getting used to.

The same as you left home, you arrived in the night. Being careful of lower ceilings and signs, you wandered through the backdoor of the palace, and crept back into your fathers’ room.

The two of you embraced after the long year apart, and the next morning, you were put to work. Walking through the halls you came across the royal siblings, once more bickering, but left in a confused, stammering mess as you passed by them on your way to Adom’s study. There, in the dim, no windowed library of a room, Adom taught you control of your abilities. 

A few weeks after your arrival, the youngest pulled you aside to speak with you.

“Who are you?” He asked, and he would’ve looked mystified if he didn’t look so angry and confused.

“I am Piye. You knew me a year ago,” you told him, recognition sparking in his eyes. 

“You’ve… changed,” he noticed, letting go of the wrist he’d held so tight. You nodded slowly, wary of any sudden movements he would make. “I have, too. I wondered where you went, but now that you’re back, I simply wanted to apologize for my behavior as a child. I was - well, I was rather rude.”

“A little,” you agreed hesitantly. “But I accept your apology.”

He smiled softly, and from there, invited you to join him for dinner that evening. 

It wasn’t quite what you expected. Actually, it wasn’t what you expected at all. He had taken you down, into a little hideaway beneath trees that had grown tall beside the nile. The chill of night air cooled your skin, quelling any anxieties you might’ve had as the two of you sat on the ground.

“I would’ve taken you to my fathers feast,” he began to say, unpacking several items of food from the basket he carried, “but I wanted to talk to you more easily.”

“Really?” You asked, pouring wine from the bottle into two glasses. “Why is that?”

“You’ve been gone for a year! A whole year - what happened?” He leaned forward with wide eyes, his hands folded politely in his lap as he practically begged you for an account of the details. You chuckled in mild amusement of his antics. It all felt so… distant, now that you’d seen the world for what it is.

“I went on a soul searching mission, as Adom called it. It’s how he came to look, well, like he does.”

The topic interested him, clearly, as he proceeded to ask an avalanche of questions, one coming right after the other without a moments’ pause. In his flurry of speech he made several observations that almost had you blushing; how beautiful your skin was, how heavenly you seemed to glow, and how you resembled a god. Of course, at that point, you chided him, saying that it was rude to the gods. In honest reply, he said, “I don’t care.”

Most of the foods he brought were not finished, lying half eaten on the blanket he’d set out. Both of you spent too much time talking, and as the evening moulded into midnight, all thought of returning to the palace left you. Truly he had grown, and changed, in his manner, and the way he held himself. The tone he spoke in morphed as well - more bold, more meaningful, spoken in such a light and almost sweet way that you’d so easily forget who you addressed. 

In this sudden trance of conversation, your thoughts began to slow, and as you stared ahead at him, trying to describe to you a conversation with his mother, you realized you could find a friend in him. That, and perhaps, a companion.

As the sun began to strike dawn above the river, you nearly jumped at your own shadow contrasting so suddenly with the darkness that had consumed you all night. 

“Have we really stayed out that long?” Ahkmen gasped, already packing away the half-eaten container of dates.

“Oh dear,” you mumbled under your breath, helping him put everything away, and racing him to the palace. By the time you got there, the sun was just barely peaking over the mountains, the both of you laughing between pants. He bent down, hands on his knees as he took deep breaths, only to lose it again in a laughing fit when you giggled. There was something inherently joyful about his presence, that it could make such an occasion feel exhilarating when it was indeed dangerous. 

“Come find me in the throne room in a few hours,” he said, his breathing slowing down as he grasped your upper arm.

“Why?”

“I want to show you something. Will you come?”

You nodded, letting out a breathy yes, smiling toothily as the two of you jogged down the corridors. His fingers trilled against the back of your hand as he dragged you, in full knowledge, to your rooms’ front door.

“Sleep for a little. I’ll see you soon,” he said quickly, his eyes darting around to see if anyone was watching, but always returning to you.

“I should say the same t-“

“Oh, go in!” He whisper shouted, pushing you into your room as a shadow drew near. You pressed your ear to the door, hearing nothing but footsteps. Assuming all went well, you snuck past sleeping Adom, who was passed out at his desk, and into your own bed. 

For several hours you slept, dreaming of very little but the experience you just had. Thrilling in a childish way - you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to stay out so long, but Gods was it exciting, and somehow you longed for more. Not that you felt as though breaking rules was a good idea, quite the opposite. Still, there was something nagging at you to get to know the boy better. 

Adom pulled the covers off your body three hours after you’d gotten them on, shoving you off the bed, all making you awaken in a crude state. On the floor, your hair a mess upon your head, and entirely disoriented.

“I’ve been called to court. Something important. Want to come?” He asked.

“Wasn’t there a nicer way to do that?” You grumbled, holding your aching head.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said with a shrug, turning to leave.

“Wait, I’ll come! Just a moment to get dressed,” you requested quickly, pushing him out of your bedroom and shutting the door to dress yourself in proper attire. As you finished, you smiled at your father, prompting him to nod quickly, and set off towards the throne room.

There you found a royal proceeding in order, one you’d seen before. The ordering of another temple, whether or not to do it, and if so, where, how many builders, and what the cost would be. A rather dull proceeding, and you began to regret waking so soon, till you caught the eye of Ahkmen. He smiled brightly, rolling his weight from his toes to his heel as he tried to keep a semblance of formality. You gave a small wave, but otherwise payed attention to the pharaoh.

“And which God is this again?” He asked, having clearly trailed off in thought.

“Uh,” Adom opened a scroll, “Amun, my king.”

For a moment, the pharaoh contemplated, leaning forward and scratching at the long beard on his chin. His eyes flickered upwards, to the architect in front of him, before nodding curtly.

“I want you to preside over cost, workers, and efficiency. See whatever budget you find fit.”

The architect nodded, thanking him profusely, before turning and walking spritely out the main entrance. Beside you, Ahkmen crept closer, before leaning down the few steps that separated you and whispering.

“Glad you came?”

“Is that what you wanted me to see?” You chuckled, knowing full well that it couldn’t be.

“Not at all. It’s in a few more appointments.” His father side eyed him, glaring and silently degrading his posture. “Be patient,” he said as he straightened to a position where you could no longer speak with him.

You watched several more meetings, feeling your senses dull as Adom stepped up to be beside the pharaoh. The longing to leave came many times, especially as you saw birds fly past the arches, and a sweet breeze blew into the room. By the fourth meeting, concerning some failed crop, you submitted yourself to your fate, knowing you couldn’t do much without appearing rude.

A man appeared, several boys you recognized to be carriers, who delivered letters and information behind him. Looking rather bedraggled, he bowed deep before the pharaoh, the boys doing the same, before he spoke.

“The plans for the Festival of Opet are all going well. Seems everything is alright, nothing too hectic this year. Your barge to Thebes will arrive within the week,” he said, keeping his head high and his gaze low. The pharaoh noticeably untensed, smiling at the news and nodded for the man to continue. “All that’s left is the feast, here in the city. You’ve ordered,” he cleared his throat, and a boy came forward, handing him a scroll. “for your _son_ to look over the details. Now, you’ve, uh… is this your eldest or younger son?”

“My eldest,” the pharaoh clarified, glancing to his right, where the eldest stood. “And if there are issues with this arrangement, look to Adom.”

The man nodded, bowing and leaving the room. Only then did Ahkmen look at you again, pure anticipation written all over it with a bright smile to accompany. Politely, you smiled in return, unsure if that was what he wanted you to specifically see. As the Pharaoh stood to depart, his sons went their separate ways. Ahkmen to you, and Kahmuh to start with preparations. 

“Was that it then?” You asked, following his lead down a different hallway than you came. Adom, too caught up in the Pharaoh’s needs for the impending trip, did not notice your departure.

“Yes! It’s one of the rare times my father leaves, and this time he’s _finally_ putting Kahmuh in charge instead of me! He’s always making me do things, and it gets to be a bit much sometimes,” he admitted to his stress casually, his face still alight with eagerness.

“He puts his youngest in charge rather than his eldest? Doesn’t seem very wise, does it?”

“You haven’t fully met my brother,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“That bad, is he?” You asked, ducking your head as the open-arch hallway turned into a closed one. 

“And worse. He’s done some really odd things, but hopefully this’ll mature him up a bit,” he said, turning into the kitchen. You followed, seeing a few servants about doing very little. At the prince’s presence they didn’t jump, so you safely assumed he was here often. Digging his hand into a bowl of figs and pulling out two, he handed one to you, and bit into his own. “But that might be wishful thinking.”

“He can’t screw up a feast that badly, can he? It’s just a dinner. It’s not like he’s controlling the Kings’ march from Thebes to Luxor, or steering his barge,” you tried, an odd attempt at comfort.

“Again, you’d be surprised. You could be right, but still! He’s done some… stuff,” he explained vaguely.

“Could you elaborate on that?” You examined the fig closely, looking up at him as you spoke.

“No,” he said through a mouthful of fig, the two of you breaking into giggles once he swallowed. 

After earning odd stares from the servants, you patted him on the shoulder, gingerly leading him out the door. 

“He and I don’t speak much anymore. I find it keeps the peace.”

“I saw you arguing with him not a few weeks ago,” you said, recalling the day after you returned. 

“Yes, well, uh, that was important. He sabotaged a statue of our mother,” he said in a low voice, pulling you aside from your walk. You paused, noting that it was apparently a big deal.

“Really? What did he do?”

“… cut the nose off and destroyed it. It’ll take them a while to make another one and fit it on right,” he mumbled.

“Hm. No respect for elders or family. What a kind man,” you said sarcastically, continuing on your way down the hall. He agreed easily, following beside you, his steps faster to keep up with your long strides.

“I was taking us to the kitchen,” he said after you made your way out the front of the palace. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, are you still there?” You teased, looking down at him with a sly smile. He punched you lightly, frowning.

“I’m not so small that you’d forget me,” he fluffed. “Now answer my question.”

“Well, you like food, right?” You asked, turning down the street on a path you memorized long ago. 

“Yes. But don’t phrase it like that.”

“Of course, your highness,” you said, a toying lilt in your voice. “There’s a place down here that does wonderful things with beer and bread.”

“Really?” He asked, expecting no answer as he followed you through the market, through half abandoned alleyways to this place you spoke of. 

“Now it’s not very high class,” you told him, stopping in front of a rather rundown building, one that had no door and very few people inside.

“Should - should I take my things off?” He asked quietly, pointing to his golden necklace and bracelets. You looked around a moment, before pulling him into the alley beside the restaurant, handing him the shawl off your back.

“They’ll get stolen if you put them somewhere, and you’ll get noticed if you keep wearing them in plain sight,” you explained as he stammered, almost refusing but unwilling to present any other solution. 

“Alright, uh, let’s get going then,” he faltered, pushing you ahead before going himself, raising your shawl to below his eyes.

Sitting in the corner, you were soon served, and as always, the food was excellent. Ahkmen noted that it was well worth the trip, and requested you take him there in the future as well.

“Do you think I could get the recipe for our kitchens?” He asked at the end of the meal, leaning forwards to get a better view into the kitchen.

“It’s a family secret. I’ve asked,” you chuckled, waving at the man who looked back at Ahkmen, startling him out of his trance.

“What a shame,” he murmured, only looking away from the kitchens when you interrupted his gaze, pulling him out of his seat and out the door.

Upon leaving he handed your shawl back to you, which you took graciously, pulling it over your shoulders as the two of you weaved through the growing crowd. The market was always crowded, and the streets preceding it grew steadily in the people present. You towered over most in your form, so if ever Ahkmen got lost in the chaos, he would look up to find you. Almost always you were right beside him.

“Do you ever worry for your city?” You asked quietly, walking up the steps of the palace. Furrowing his brow he turned to you, stopping you with a soft touch to your arm.

“What do you mean?” He stepped up a few steps to be equal with you.

“I mean, the line of succession. You hardly trust your brother with a feast, how will you think the city will fare with him as a king? Not only the city, but your world?”

“Somehow, you have the hardest questions to answer all the time. Can’t you loosen up? How old are you?”

“I’m 15,” you answered.

“You’re younger than I am, and so worried about the state of things. It’ll work itself out, and not yet. I doubt my father is ready to give up the throne,” he assured you, a small smile gracing his lips as he tapped your shoulder, signalling the walk up the steps had been resumed.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, the thought still bothered you. Perhaps your own father would have a say over it, but you doubted it still. There was really no option, and certainly no advice from you would be heeded, so for the time you tried to let it go.

“The sun is always hottest midday, so I make it a rule of mine never to be out midday,” he told you as shade enveloped you both, cooling hot skin from the beating sun.

“Sounds a fair rule,” you replied. 

The two of you ventured through the halls and rooms, making your way past the throne room on tip toe.

“I don’t want any part in the planning,” he whispered, explaining his odd behavior, sticking to the walls and staying silent as possible. You nodded, glancing back to Kahmuh every now and then, hoping your rather monstrous form wouldn’t be noticed.

Right as his foot stepped through the archway to the next room, a boisterous voice called through the room, calling his attention.

“Brother! Come help with this!”

His shoulders slumped, and quickly resuming a prouder posture, he turned with a smile. _Good at faking,_ you noted to yourself, for any future occurrence where it might prove crucial. You followed him, staying by his side as Kahmuh asked redundant questions only meant to irk his brother. He was doing it well, too - Ahkmen was clearly very annoyed. His eyes kept an intense glare, but a friendly smile stayed as he answered.

“And of the musicians? Whom should we hire?” Kahmuh asked, tapping his chin in deep thought.

“Uh,” he stammered, taken unawares by a more important question. “Shouldn’t we hire our usual?”

“Yes… that harpist is rather good.”

You tried to recall the band, but came up with little other than background imagery from the various parties your father had attended with you. With a nod to his inferiors, the eldest prince sent away the servants, leaving just you, your newfound friend, and his rather conniving brother.

“I see you two have rekindled your friendship,” he said, surprisingly calm about it. His face showed no change in demeanor, a small smile on his lips and unusually beady eyes.

“Something of the sort,” Ahkmen replied, smiling curtly. “I was just escorting Piye back to their room.”

“Ah. Well, don’t let me disturb you,” he said, side eyeing you as he turned to face the front of the room. There was something sly about him, and not entirely truthful, but your basis was empty. Thus, you dismissed your speculation as simple fear, following Ahkmen’s lead into and through the halls to your room. 

Standing at the open door of your room, he took your hands, looking into your eyes. Behind you, you could feel Adom’s gaze burning into the base of your head. Ahkmen must not have noticed, though, as he spoke rather plainly.

“Tomorrow, I want to meet you at the hill overlooking the nile. Do you, uh, have any prior commitments?”

“None at all. What time?”

“After noon, I think. I have an idea I want to try out,” he said with a playful smile. In turn you narrowed your eyes, wondering what scheme he was cooking up, and whether or not it was something you wanted to be involved in. Either way, if you got caught, he’d take the blame.

“Alright, I’ll join you.”

“Good. Now get some sleep,” he said, patting your shoulder rather awkwardly, a hesitant tap and then a full pat.

With a quick turn, he vanished down the hallway, leaving you with your father. Slowly, you turned around, watching carefully for his reaction. Casually, he looked up from his stew, book in hand, his eyes dull with exhaustion.

“Fraternizing with the prince?”

“He invited me first,” you explained, appearing as fast as you said the words at his side.

“And… get some sleep? Would that have to do with your little outing last night?”

You froze, eyes widening. You weren’t at all aware that he knew - you thought yourself rather silent, actually.

“Um - I just…”

You trailed off, watching as a small smile grew into a grin, till Adom belted out a laugh, moving to his feet. Though his eyes still drew heavy with sleep, he patted you on the back, and the smile remained.

“I’m only joking. I’m glad you’ve got a friend. Even if he’s, well, royal.”

Nodding, you dismissed yourself, just barely reaching your room before your composure completely broke.

 _What a relief_ , you thought to yourself.

After a good while of studying law, per Adom’s request, you laid yourself to rest in the evening. The next day continued as usual - breakfast with Adom, reviewing subject material, before court with the King (or, in this case, the kings’ terrible son), till afternoon swung around and your free time began. At least, as long as your father didn’t have any errands he needed you to run in his place.

As the seemingly endless meetings finally came to an end, Ahkmen pulled at your sleeve, breaking you secretly away from your place at Adom’s side. It wasn’t until you reached a darkened hallway, lit by distant sunlight that you finally broke free, and he turned around suddenly.

“What in the _world_ were you thinking?” You hissed, your head whipping back the way you came to see if anyone had followed you, before promptly refocusing your glare on Ahkmen.

“The meetings were especially long today, don’t you think?” He asked as an avoidance of your question, his hands settling on his hips.

“… Yes. There are several things about today that have certainly occurred. Like taking me prematurely from Adom before finding out if he needed me after court!”

“You seriously call it court?”

“That’s what it’s ‘seriously’ called. It’s the official name.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s a bit colder today. Fluctuating weather or something - I wanted to get out before the wind got bad,” he said, grabbing your wrist and once more dragging you down the hall, aiming for that distant hill overlooking the Aur.

Against your better judgement you let him take you, through whatever path he saw fit, your feet dragging behind you as he ran. You could almost roll your eyes at his antics. So childish, you thought, especially for a prince. Even a younger one. Perhaps his immaturity was a result of the exact reason he shouldn’t have been. You could hardly let your mind dwell on it, racing down the short but numerous steps leading down to the ground. 

From your position the river wasn’t in sight, but the cliff Ahkmen ran towards was. You pulled at his hand, grasping and intertwining his fingers in yours, finally bringing him to a steady but anxious halt. Panting, he knelt in the sand, looking up at you with a gleaming grin.

“Good exercise, yeah?”

“I suppose so,” you replied, largely unaffected by the exertion of energy. After letting him breathe for a moment, you held your hand out. He took it, and you lifted him to his feet.

“So here’s my idea. You know how the sand here isn’t exactly steady? It’s, sort of precarious?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking. What if we sort of.. stood at the edge, and stomped our feet, and we could ride the falling sand into the water?”

For a whole of two minutes you stared at him, trying to decipher if he was kidding or not. In that time, he did not flinch, continuing to stare expectantly at you, his hands once more on his hips. Blinking, you decided he was not joking.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course!” He replied immediately.

“You’re an idiot.”

“We all know that,” he laughed. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Sighing, and tilting your head to the sky, you shut your eyes tight.

“You’re going to do this no matter if I join or not?”

“That’s about right, my friend.”

“Fine,” you practically spat, after another moment of contemplation. “I’ll do the - I’ll join you, but only because I’m worried you’re going to hurt yourself. I will garner no joy from this.”

“I told you this yesterday, and I will tell you again,” he said, moving to hold your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing softly against the back of your hands. “Loosen up.”

“This could kill you.”

“And?”

 _That’s worrying,_ you thought to yourself, unable to express that thought before he stood at the very edge, stomping with his sandals at the loose sand. Rushing to his side, you held his upper arm, ready to catch him if any harm should befall. 

“Come on, then! Join me! What with your size, should happen much faster,” he said, and gingerly you began stepping at the ground. Not full stomping, just the weight and strength you’d use while walking. None of that mattered though, as the ground beneath you began to move, and the two of you surged forward.

You would’ve shut your eyes were you not so worried of losing track of the prince. The grip you held on him tightened, making sure that you wouldn’t separate in the landslide running down to the nile. Wind surged past your face, the mild air stinging at your open eyes. Swallowing thick, you tried to breathe, and waited for the fall to end.

By the end, half the sand of the hill had flooded into the Aur, dirtying the water and blocking it from flowing as well. You glared over at Ahkmen, buried in sand up to his shoulders.

“It’s going to take forever to get you out of there,” you sighed.

“At least it only goes up to your chest,” he pointed out helpfully. Rolling your eyes, you cleared the sand with your hands, digging yourself out before helping him.

“This was a terrible idea,” you told him, helping him to his feet.

“Not my worst though,” he said, mumbling a thank you and dusting himself out. His skin tinted a red from the irritation of sand against it for so long. 

“Really? What did you do, break your skull open?” You asked, leading the two of you back up to the palace.

“Actually,” he said, grunting and wincing as his skin rubbed against itself, “I tried to befriend an alligator.”

“One of the ones down at the temple? I thought they were rather nice.”

“Those ones are. Not wild ones though.”

You stopped, staring at him.

“ _Wild_ ones? Did your mother not love you or something?! How many times a year do you do these idiotic things?”

“About three or four times a week, according to my brother. I don’t think they’re stupid though! And let me explain myself -“ he chuckled, “- I’m just having fun. A lot of it, too, and I haven’t died yet.”

“Half your heart*** obviously has.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, no offense intended, your majesty,” you laughed, bowing dramatically low as the two of you walked back into the shadowed hall of stone.

“You’re pardoned. For now,” he said, side eying you cheekily, a smile playing at his lips.

Giggling, you elbowed him, partially unbalancing him.

“Ah,” he said quietly, rubbing the place where you hit him. “A bit sensitive.”

“I’ll take you to the baths,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and directing him towards the bathroom. He halted, tugging at your sleeve to stop you. “What?”

“I don’t use the servants baths,” he said, chuckling, almost astounded. Frowning, you turned to him.

“If it gives you such offense, I will see you in a while then. I’d like to take my own bath considering how unclean your exploits make one.”

“No, you can join me if you’d like,” he returned quickly, pulling at your sleeve again as you began to head to your own quarters. For a moment, there was naught but silence as the two of you watched each other.

“Okay,” you agreed. “As long as next time, you come see what I have to deal with daily.”

“Agreed,” he said with a smile, and the both of you shook hands.

The path to your new destination took you up several flights of stairs, winding through hallways you’d never before seen, all decorated intricately. Torches lined the hall in even stands, all unlit as night had not yet come. Sun still shined through the open arches. 

“Just down this way,” he assured you, the pathway growing more and more confusing till you were sure you would never find your way back alone, till at last a door opened to a chamber, the arches open and warm water steaming the air from nearby stoves. The tubs were built into the raised floor, the two of you walking up the short steps to the base floor.

Servants came from seemingly nowhere, waiting on you, undressing you as you tried to brush them away.

“Uh - is this customary?” You asked anxiously, trying to signify to the servants that you didn’t want to be served.

“Hm?” He turned around, laughing when he saw your awkwardness. “Do you not usually have people helping you?”

“No,” you answered firmly. “It’s not usual.”

“It’s not unusual for us, no. Just let them do their job,” he tried to convince you, his voice quiet and smooth.

“I don’t think I will. Please, I can do this alone,” you said, turning to the servants. Glancing at each other, they nodded, leaving you be. You let out a breath, undressing yourself in peace and climbing into the too small bath, your knees coming up to your chest but enjoying the warm water nonetheless.

Behind you, you heard sniggering, causing you to turn. Ahkmen, situated in the tub behind you, was laughing at your condition. Swiveling yourself around in the water, you turned to him, wide eyed and glaring.

“Something humorous?” 

“Sort of,” he snorted.

“I’d be ever so indebted if you shared it with me.”

“I was just… thinking of you. Sharing a bath with someone else. I don’t think it’d end well.”

“Sounds too intimate for me,” you replied, ignoring the degrading insinuation. 

“What’s that mean? Scared of intimacy?”

“Not at all. But I don’t exactly look the part,” you chuckled heartlessly, looking down at yourself. Sure, dark skin was absolutely beautiful, but… not black skin. Dark as night skin was… well, it made you insecure to say the least. In the very least, you hadn’t met anyone like you except Adom, and your height wasn’t exactly helping your insecurities. When you discovered what you looked like, the dawning realization that you were no longer attractive, not in this culture, came very slowly, but it came nonetheless.

“What in the world do you mean by that? Are you saying you aren’t attractive?”

“Yes? I don’t exactly meet societal standards -“

“That’s a load of shit, and a horrible way of thinking. I think you’re very attractive as you are. You’ve got a nice face, and your freckles are white, which I think is very cool.”

“I have freckles?” You asked softly, your hand coming up to stroke your cheek. How had he noticed something about you that you had not seen before?

“Um,” he said, choking up when he realized he’d definitely just confessed to staring at your face, “yeah. I mean, they’re nice n’ all, uh…” he trailed off, sinking into his bathwater.

“… thank you,” you mumbled, still absently stroking your cheek.

The rest of the bath was enjoyed, or tolerated, in both warmth, comfort, and extreme emotional discomfort.

As night approached, the sun disappeared over the mountains, leaving the land in a shadowy state. Torches were lit by servants, and both you and Ahkmen, fully dressed in cleaner and nicer clothing, wandered down the long hallways once more towards your own room for you, and the dining hall for him.

“Despite todays failings,” you said, looking pointedly at the red stomach shown by his lack of clothing there, “I had a good time.”

Quietly he chuckled, growing slowly louder till he finally spoke. 

“You said you wouldn’t enjoy yourself! Ha! I win!”

“Win what?!”

“I told myself that I could make you have fun in a stupid way, and I just won!”

“It doesn’t count if I don’t know about it!”

“Ah, or perhaps not, my friend! You see, if you knew about it,” the two of you had now stopped walking in the hallway, facing each other, “you might not have told me that, even if you _did_ enjoy your day.”

“I don’t lie,” you sniffed, feeling mildly insulted.

“Sure you don’t, but I don’t know that about you yet. In the future,” he straightened out his skirt, leading the way as you began walking again, “I will tell you about such competitions.”

“Right. Well I thank you then, my prince.” Once more you bowed, but his smile faltered for a second, before regaining its’ regular brightness.

“Have a good dinner,” he said as you stood outside your door. 

“You as well. Don’t fight your brother.”

“You can’t make me do anything.”

“But I can advise you so I can tell you ‘I told you’ later.”

Glancing at you, a smirk upon him, he nodded.

“Fair game.”

For the next several days, you counted your lucky Gods that he hadn’t tried to make you do anything else dangerous. He was nursing a bad burn from the sand, so you thought that’d keep him sated in the very least. You were deeply, unequivocally wrong.

He sat in bed, the burn having gotten worse from the night before. All along his body, medication in the form of cream and lotion sat upon his skin, rendering him immobile. This fact, while annoying him, did not deter him from annoying you and pushing your emotional energy past its’ limit.

“Do you think it’s edible?” He asked as you sat beside him, reading from one of the various scrolls Adom had given you.

“What?” You asked blandly, not looking up.

“You know, the stuff they put on me. It smells good.”

“I’d assume not. If the smell is making you hungry, I can go fetch something.”

“I’m going to eat it.”

“No you aren’t.”

Though you kept your eyes trained on your reading, you could see him, from the corner of your eye, dipping his finger into the lotion and bringing it to his mouth, before gagging at its taste.

“Oh Gods.”

“I told you.”

“Oh my Gods that’s… that’s awful.”

“I definitely told you.”

“Yes you did,” he said, sucking in a breath.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am not!”

“You just ate skin medicine.”

He turned away from you, pouting without another word said. Clearing your throat, you went back to reading, ignoring his little session of anger. Slowly, the humor got to you, till you began to audibly chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, turning to you.

“Nothing. You’re rather… odd,” you settled on, hoping the description wouldn’t offend him terribly. Instead, the opposite effect took place, where he broke down into his own giggles, spurring on your own laughter till the two of you were giggling meaninglessly.

The next occasion in which he pushed himself in a direction he shouldn’t have, he picked a fight with his brother. It had been a few days, and his burn was much better, to the point where he could move like a mostly normal person. He walked alongside his brother, who was trailed by several servants and nobles, all worried about the upcoming celebration. Whenever they would try to speak to him, Kahmuh would wave them off, and continue talking to his brother. It wasn’t a kind voice he spoke in, rather a ridiculing one, and a tone with words so carefully chosen that Ahkmen couldn’t logically argue. 

You walked in quiet step behind your friend, trying to keep your distance from the others following Kahmuh. Instead of bothering with their mean-spirited conversation, you looked at the greenery, blooming even in the colder season. Innovation was certainly thriving in Memphis, especially so in its’ gardens. From where you were, you could hear bits of their conversation, not fully absorbing yourself in their words till Kahmuh must’ve said _something_ conniving, for which Ahkmen retaliated by grabbing the back of his brothers’ neck, and forcing his face into his raised knee.

Jumping forward, you grabbed Ahkmen’s arms, restricting him, and pulling him out of the way of what was sure to be a painful retaliation. As you left, Kahmuh cursed the both of you, before speaking in hushed voice with his fathers’ advisors. 

“What in the world was that?!” You hissed, still restraining his hands and forcing him through the doors and back into the palace. 

“He just insulted my parents!” He bit back, his eyes wild and angered. 

“You can’t go into a fit every time he says something about your parents,” you tried to convince him in a hushed whisper, thinking past to several years ago, when the two brothers had been simply awful to each other. 

“Piye, I don’t think you understand what he just said. I’ll say it in simpler words so you can understand; he can’t wait for them to die.”

“Don’t insult me,” you spoke bitterly, releasing him and pushing him forward. “I don’t have your education, or your status. I don’t have your experience, but do not believe me to be lower than you. No man is lower than you, nor is any higher.”

He rubbed the area of his arm that you had been holding tight, eyes downcast as he thought over his words. His stance remained tight, and his brow furrowed.

“I have an idea,” he finally said, looking up at you. You nodded, gesturing for him to continue. He cleared his throat and did so. “You should be my adviser.”

“That’s the first good idea you’ve had in months,” you commented with your arms crossed, mildly impressed.

“Well you can’t bully me if you’re going to agree to it,” he said with a comically exaggerated frown. You chuckled, breaking your stern exterior with a pleasant smile.

“None can deny you’re in desperate need of advice. Maybe some growing up to do, as well.”

“You’re insulting me again, you know,” he said as the both of you began walking down the long hallway in a slow meander.

“Is that not my job?”

+

As the days progressed into weeks he explained further what your job was to truly be. Into the details of how he didn’t really need an advisor, to which you quickly cut in, saying that he’d probably die if you weren’t his advisor. He agreed easily.

“That’s not the point, though,” he told you, sitting across from you at a wonderfully crafted table in his private room. “Only the Pharaoh needs advisors and all that. I’m not to become Pharaoh.”

“Now we’re getting into realistic fears.”

“I - I’m sorry?”

“A while back, I asked if you were concerned with your brother becoming King, considering his decisions aren’t exactly, um, sound, so to say.”

“Oh, right, right. Yes. Maybe we could run away,” he suggested, clearly joking, but for some reason, a feeling deep in your stomach told you that if you asked, he would comply.

“… Right,” you said slowly. “For now I’ll just label my job as ‘trying to keep an idiot alive.’”

“Again with the insults?”

“You literally, purposefully started a landslide. That’s on you.”

“You came along. And you had fun,” he pointed out with a goofy smile.

“I swear I’ll never tell you the truth again.”

“Then I will know you’re lying, and I’ll assume the opposite.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that, right?”

“A little. My parents love me.”

“That’s because you’re nicer and cuter than your brother.”

“You think I’m cute?” He leaned forward, a shit eating grin on his face as his eyes crinkled in teasing delight.

“Hardly,” you took a sip of your beer, “but I’m sure your parents think you are.”

“Aw,” he pouted, his bottom lip pushed out. You chuckled, shaking your head.

From there, conversation continued in small, quiet phrases as the two of you read your separate homework documents. Him, with his hieroglyphs and politics, and you with your magic and potions. Not that he fully knew what that was about - you had told him, during that first dinner, that you were training to become a healer. You told him nothing about the fact that you didn’t really need ingredients to produce fire, or water at the edge of your fingers. It wasn’t something Adom told you to easily share. 

“When’s the festival again?”

You set your scroll flat on the table.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I wasn’t really paying attention. It was nice to not have to, you know?”

You sighed, understanding his logic. “It’s in two days.”

A cracking sound resounded in his chambers as he slammed his book down, eyes wide and alarmingly white. 

“ _Two days_? I haven’t even gotten measured for the - oh Gods, I need to talk to my brother!” He jumped out of his seat, rushing out the door and slamming it behind him. For a moment, you sat in the silence left in his absence, wondering what had just happened. Then, the door flew open once more, Ahkmen poking his head back into the room. “Come on! I haven’t got all day!”

“That’s not technically correct you’ve got two days,” you grunted out quickly as you stepped out of your own seat, running after him. 

He had little reason to be stressed. Watching him from the corner of the room, relaxing on a comfortable pile of cushions, you felt more sorry for the people who had to put together an entire outfit for him in such a short amount of time. Still he fidgeted where he stood as they held gold and green fabric up to him. 

“No green, please,” he requested, to which they quickly obliged.

“Why not? You only ever wear gold,” you commented, lazing your hours away.

“I’m not going to look like my brother and he loves green. It's his favourite.”

“If you began to look like your brother I think my eyes would start burning,” you said blandly, picking at your nails. He snorted, his posture slacking till one of the men measuring him pushed his back back into place.

“You can’t insult a prince in front of other people.”

“And you shouldn’t leave things like this until the last moment,” you retorted with a laugh.

He shut up after that. By the next day, his hurried costume was finished, decorated ornately with various streaks of gold and jewels. You tried to compliment the seamster on their work, but by the time you turned around, they were gone. Turning back to Ahkmen, you admired the way it fit him.

“It’s good, I think,” you said.

“You don’t think I made a mistake with the green?”

“Let’s just say you don’t look like your brother,” you joked, handing him the heavy golden crown. With a grateful smile and slight bow he took it, settling it gently upon his head. Looking into the floor length mirror in front of him, you tilted the crown slightly so it wouldn’t fall to one side. He murmured a thank you, fiddling with the thin cape he wore.

“You sure it looks okay?” He asked again.

“You look regal.”

“Don’t I always?” He teased, biting at his lower lip thoughtfully.

“Not covered in white grease and choking on it because you thought it might taste good.”

“That was _one time_ ,” he groaned. You still laughed at his discontentment, sitting back in one of his luxurious chairs he kept in his room. 

Adom woke you early in the morning, hurriedly telling you of his duties, and warning that he would be gone for a while. As he rushed out of your room, you threw your covers off of yourself, running out after him.

“Adom! What do you mean, what’s happening?” You asked groggily, wondering what in the hell could have him so worried.

“What? Nothing, I need to prepare the image of Amun-Re for the celebration. You know, marching through the streets? You watched me a few years back,” he said, stuffing several herbs into his bag. In sudden recognition you nodded, a small ‘ah,’ escaping you as he flew out the door with a quick good bye. Blearily, you dressed yourself, and went to visit the prince. 

Most mornings the halls were moderately filled - enough room to move about freely, with groups of people passing by every now and then. Though you expected this, from the years passed, the sheer number of people filling room left by stone walls was shocking. You towered above their heads, repeatedly excusing yourself and apologizing as you practically trampled over the horde. It didn’t help that everyone was going in different directions, either, rather hindering most everyones sense of direction except yours, the only one capable of seeing above the raucous crowd. When at last you met the wood doors sealing Ahkmen away from the noise, you slipped inside with a nod to the diligent guards placed outside his room, on either side of his door. 

In a tangle of blankets, lying on his stomach, legs sticking out in two different directions and his arm over the back of his head, was the royal Prince, a supposed half god on earth, and a direct line to the deities. He snored softly, partially muffled by the soft pillows beneath him. Groaning quietly, with a small roll of your eyes, you stepped forward, pulling the blankets off of him with a harsh tug. With a bit of effort he at last unraveled, letting out his own ungraceful moan at harsh sunlight hitting his eyes and cooler wind upon his half naked skin. 

“Today’s the day of the feast, and you’re sleeping in?” You asked, more astounded than you were annoyed, though fully annoyed nonetheless.

“I am a vessel of Ra’s power, and he says I can sleep,” he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his face. 

“I thought you liked Khonsu more,” you said, taking the pillow from his grasp and setting it a safe distance away from him. 

“Does it matter?” He looked up at you, his eyes dry but wide. 

“Yes, now get up.”

He moaned incoherent complaints the entire time, rolling off the bed and landing straight on his back. From then on, he spent the rest of the morning complaining about his back hurting, far into eating breakfast, past preparations for the ceremony, and through getting dressed for the upcoming feast.

“I think,” you said, grunting slightly as you adjusted the gold and lapis jeweled collar upon his shoulders, “you should be glad.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, continuing to observe the both of you in his mirror.

“Back before history began, the Opet festival stretched -“

“For twenty-seven days, I know. I read too,” he interrupted with a playful glare. “How does that make me lucky?”

“I don’t think you have the energy for something like that,” you said with a smile. He turned to you, his brow furrowed but a smirk still prominent on his face.

“On the contrary. I think _you_ aren’t suited for something like that.”

“I sat on a mountaintop for a whole year without food or water. I think I’m perfectly suited.”

“That’s just sitting. Can you hold the stamina for dancing?”

“I suppose we’ll find out by tonight,” you chuckled, correcting the crown on his head, as it had once more tilted to the right. 

The two of you entered the brightly lit hall, torches lining the sides in bright orange and blue. Marveling, you took your seat, a few seats away from Ahkmen but still at the same table. Adom would not be there, you realized, as Kahmuh, head of the table, stood with glass in hand. 

“To the many prosperous years ahead of us, and thanks to the Gods,” he said, and from his glass he drank red wine. In unison, the room at large raised their own cups, and drank. Servants that stood nearby bowed their heads in respect, their trays level from years of experience, eyes cast down out of a learned fear. You took a sip from your own cup, the warm liquid burning down your throat in a pleasant sensation. A quick smile to your friend, one that was easily returned, and the feast began. 

Stretching out before you must’ve been enough to elegantly feed the entire city for at least a week - plates of fish, salted and spiced, fruit stacked head high in ornate designs, plates of various vegetables fried with legs of beef, and massive pitchers of wine and beer separating the neat piles of food from each other. Relatively, you sat near the head, the long wooden table stretching for forever down the immense room, the ceiling towering high above you, so far that the light did not reach the ceiling before it spanned into darkness. 

To the sides of the room, and at the entrance musicians played, their instruments in perfect sync with the singing voices, harmonizing with the peaceful chatter of the many people there. Women danced in skirts and dresses, gold sewn into the sheer fabric that shimmered in the dying light of the sunset, hips moving with the music. 

You filled your own plate gratuitously, but thankfully not enough to turn any heads. That fell mostly to one man, sitting across from you and slightly to the right. With as much gusto as he ate, he ended up missing half the food he’d gotten, as it flew from his mouth and landed on the dissatisfied and rather disgusted people sitting beside him. As Ahkmen glanced your way, you gestured with your head towards the man, and the two of you giggled under your breath. 

Once the sun had finally set, it felt as though the energy had gone through the roof. People stood on the benches and seats, drinking and singing boastfully, their arms wrapped around each other. Kahmuh looked on in his usual, quiet demeanor, his brother whispering to him every now and again. You stayed seated where you were, amused by the antics of drunk nobles. 

It must’ve been only you, noticing the clanging outside. Every so often you’d turn to the door, expecting someone to come bursting through, but for the first five times nothing happened. Anxiously you rubbed your hand together, wondering what could be causing such a racket to be heard over the laughter of over a dozen people. Swallowing thick, you tried not to linger on it. Tonight was about celebration, not worry. 

He flashed you a smile, bright and excited, one that might’ve calmed you if it had not fallen so quickly to a frown. Drifting, his gaze landed to the right of your head, and you turned, finding a bloodied soldier, spear in hand, panting on his knees. Ahkmen let out a sort of yell, one that caught the attention of Kahmuh, who quickly stopped his conversation with a woman beside him as the soldier caught his eye. 

“There’s - “ he couldn’t stop panting, “there’s, a… there’s an army, you need,” he took another deep breath, “you need to evacuate!”

For a split second the hall was mute, with not the sound of fire of torches crackling out of a sudden and deserved fear. Then, a sound like the screams of hell, as each and every dining person stood with shaking hands, their voices seeming to come unwillingly from themselves. The soldier fell to the ground, landing face first. From your seat you leapt, surging through the crowd and falling by his side.

Placing your hand on his chest, you felt no movement. You pressed your hand against his neck quickly, finding no pulse. With a groan you stood, knowing this was no time to worry for a body. A hand wrapped around yours, pulling you away, and the light of the dining hall disappeared as the crowd of nobles was lead far away from the palace. 

Turning to run, Ahkmen stood beside you, holding your hand. You intertwined your fingers together, holding him as tight as he held you. Behind you and in front, guards protected you from every angle, ready for any sudden attack.

“Who the hell could be attacking on Opet?!” Ahkmen exclaimed, not even turning to face you. Through the noise of running footsteps and nervous shouts, you barely heard him - just enough to make it out.

“Now isn’t the time for questions,” you said, your voice an anxious murmur. At first, you were afraid he couldn’t hear you, but he nodded, running faster and pulling you along. 

The crowd led you through twisting halls, through the quickest route to the back door. You’d taken it several times before - when your friend had started a landslide, or when the same friend had taken you on that midnight picnic. 

“Pray they aren’t waiting for us,” a rather fat man beside you said, mostly to himself, but overhead by others. It did very little to calm the fear pounding into the group.

To the instant relief of the people, no one was there. But it was a small door - two at a time ran through it, rushing down the small steps and running for the Aur that was only a short walk away from the stairs.

“Not that way!” A guard yelled, making it down the steps and directing you into the desert. There was no way this man would be trusted without at least one of the princes allowing it, but somehow enough terror had occurred that evening that most people had lost most of their logical thinking, immediately heading where the guard led. You found yourself among that population, your hand still tight around Ahkmen’s, Kahmuh trailing angrily after everyone else. In the distance, you could hear yelling, blood curdling screams that seeped right into the bone, implanting itself into your mind to repeat over and over again. A particularly loud scream, followed by the sound of choking and gurgling sent a terrible image of some poor person getting stabbed ruthlessly in the street. You closed your eyes, shaking your head to clear the image.

 _It’ll be okay,_ you told yourself, with no Adom to confirm it, and no source of comfort but the pressure around your palm, pressing its’ medicine into your heart.

The hours following the evacuation were, if there were any true word to describe them, chaotic. Most of the nobles had never known danger, or the feeling of fear, so it ran potent through all. Even you, who had gone through quite a lot in your short lifetime, could feel it pouring off of them in great spouts. The twenty-or-so of you sat around a large rock, sheltering you from sight of the city, with Kahmuh sitting atop it and thinking of what to do next. You did not envy his position.

After much thinking, and as the sun began to peak over the horizon (many of the people had already gone to sleep; the others stayed up, too wary to drift off), he stood, his shadow towering over the huddled mass.

“We must travel to Thebes. Half our military force is there, and combined with Thebes military force, it’ll be easy to overtake those who have invaded us,” he decided, with much conviction in his voice. Beside you, finding no ease in sleep, Ahkmen furrowed his brow and stood with his glare.

“It’ll take fifteen days, and that’s with physically fit people. None of us have walked more than that in all our lives, we couldn’t possible do it in time! Even if we could, we have no clue as to what their numbers are. Further, we don’t know _who_ they are, either. The only person who saw them died as he told us,” Ahkmen contradicted, and the people seemed split on who to agree with. On one hand, Thebes sounded nice, and Kahmuh was technically in charge. On the other, Ahkmen had a severe point - Thebes was far away, and even with their militia, there was no guarantee.

“How exactly do _you_ know how long the walk takes?” He bit back with much venom in his eyes.

“The carrier from Thebes to Memphis, she travels by land, not sea, and on foot it takes her around ten or so days, and that’s with resting. She’s more than physically fit, above average I’d say, and taking into account all the gathered information, I believe it’d take around fifteen days.”

“And are you a mathematician, dear brother?”

He coughed, clearing his throat, and shifted his weight to his other foot rather awkwardly. 

“No,” he admitted. “But it takes a fool to not see what’s blatantly in front of him.”

An audible gasp emitted from the crowd, and you kept your head down, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Do you propose a better plan?”

“Send our strongest man with a message. It’ll take him, or her, less time than a whole group. This person could cut sleep without complaint from others, and deliver the message much faster, and bring the army back in time.”

“Our best bet is to stick together. What if it takes just enough time that all of these people die at the hands of those barbarians?! Besides, I’m acting Pharaoh.”

“Not really,” you cut in, playing with your fingers. “Your father took a chance that this would be something easy to do. Otherwise, it all would’ve fallen to your younger brother.”

“Oh, shut _up_ , you miscreation,” Kahmuh drawled, rolling his eyes. Crossing your arms, you sat back against the rock he stood on, and shut your mouth. You might’ve missed the absolutely filthy glare Ahkmen shot his brother if you hadn’t looked to him for some source of comfort.

“They aren’t wrong. There’s an issue of power here, and I think the way to solve it is to give our people a voice.”

A beat of silence passed, filled with a tension you prayed would dissipate no matter the decision, but you sort of knew that it would continue to irritate you. 

“Alright,” Kahmuh turned to the huddled crowd, “we’ll have a vote on the matter.”

“All in favor of sending a messenger to Thebes say aye,” Ahkmen said, and somehow he had changed his tone in a second - he commanded respect. Before you could wonder in awe how a person could switch so quickly, you chimed in with your own ‘aye.’

“All in favor of traveling to Thebes ourselves and sticking together,” said Kahmuh, who clearly enunciated the last two words while staring straight at his brother. From there, you noticed half the people agreed with Kahmuh, and the other with Ahkmen. Clearly the brothers voted for themselves, so with that, there was an impasse.

“Ahk,” you whispered, and he knelt before you, clearly open to whatever you had to say. “Combine the ideas.” He lit up, a bright smile taking the place of his serious grimace. With a pat to your shoulder he stood, ready to propose his, or your, idea.

“I have a solution to our issue,” Ahkmen said, all eyes turning to him. “We send our fastest person out to Thebes to arrive first, but we go ourselves. By the time we reach there, the news will have already come, and if our take back of the city is successful, we can travel back by barge.”

Slowly nodding, sly eyes turned to you, and a suddenly sick smirk fell upon Kahmuh’s face.

“I agree,” he said slowly. “Piye is clearly the most healthy. That’s who should go.”

Ahkmen paled, his posture dropping before quickly recomposing himself. He looked nearly as terrified as he had just a few hours ago, running from the feast. You could feel your own mouth go dry, but it was only logical - even if Kahmuh didn’t have it out for Ahkmen, and therefore you, you would most likely qualify as most fit. Certainly as one who could run the longest distances, and had the most experience with it, and you might’ve even volunteered yourself if you didn’t know Ahkmen would’ve choked you himself. 

Holding that close in your mind, you stood, and with a solemn nod agreed with the prince.

“I will go,” you agreed, watching the lurid smile grow on Kahmuh’s face, “but I require one of your guards’ sword. Can’t send me out with no weapons, right?” You cocked your eyebrow, and slowly, and so clearly reluctantly, he agreed. With a motion of his hand the guard nearest you regretfully handed you his sword.

“Take care of it. If I lose it, it comes out of my pay.”

“I will reimburse any loss or damage,” you chuckled. As was the case with most of the swords you’d seen, the origin was clearly from somewhere around Persia, cast in bronze and given the loving name ‘khopesh.’ For a moment you inspected it, before sheathing it in the belt the guard gave you.

Once you stepped foot out of the makeshift encampment, Ahkmen grabbed your arm, stopping you. Behind him, his brother addressed the crowd at hand, but did not capture the attention of either of you. Instead, the intensity of Ahkmen’s heed was focused entirely on you.

“Do not take chances. Be safe, my dear,” he told you, his voice deep and grave. Something you rarely ever heard from him, but one that was becoming scarily regular.

“I should be telling that to you,” you chided with a small smile, but the sentiment was not returned. With a harsh tug, he pulled you into a hug tighter than any you’d felt, pressing his worry and good wishes deep into the settlement of your heart. It was not for a long time that he let go of you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply, only then releasing you.

“You’re going to see me again,” you tried to laugh, the sound weak as your heart.

He did not reply.

You knew, that if hell did not await you out in the vastness of the desert, it would certainly await the brothers in Thebes. Any of their explanations, especially Kahmuh’s, would not be listened to. Their father wasn’t one to listen to excuses, and he said so on many occasions, though these excuses were all perfectly logical. Half the military force of Memphis was in Thebes, and almost everyone was drunk, only the threat of torture and death sobering them. Still - the fall of the capitol city. Not something to be taken lightly. As much as you knew you shouldn’t have thought it, you were grateful the blame would fall on Kahmuh.

In no way were you properly dressed for this journey, sinking into the weak sand with sandals that kept slipping off your feet. At one point you fell to the ground, ready to chuck them off, before feeling sharp rocks stab at the palm of your hands, and thinking differently. As for the nights, they were cold. You kept along the nile, but all the areas that would’ve healed your aching heels were flooded from the inundation. To your luck, however, date trees were still in reach.

By the third day your pace noticeably slowed. Dragging yourself along the path that no one would’ve wished to willingly take, you kept your head up, using your shawl to cover yourself from the heat of the burning sun. The lack of sleep didn’t take long to get to you, either. Eve would draw closer and so would your eyelids together, desperately wishing for a bed to rest in. Instead, you made do pulling the leaves off trees, if only to keep yourself off the ground. 

Besides the usual aches and pains, the trip was… rather normal. The only time you unsheathed your sword was to cut open hard fruits, or cut branches. Come the eighth night, it began to rub your mind raw, wondering if perhaps you just weren’t being observant enough. You got little sleep that night, but made it through the next day with the comfort that you would be sleeping in a real bed by in two nights’ time. 

To your surprise, you must’ve sped up, ending up in the city by that evening. All were peacefully unaware of the turmoil of their capital, something you tried not to pay attention to. Instead, you focused on the largest building, smack in the center, standing tall as a reminder of the power of the rich. 

_Act normal,_ you told yourself, and with this reminder, most of the guards payed you no mind. It wasn’t until you reached the steps of this supposed city hall that you were stopped by a rather muscular woman, who was nearly as tall as you.

“You can’t enter without a pass,” she told you, her voice stern and rather deep.

“I have grave news from Memphis, I need to see the Pharaoh,” you said, trying to convey the urgency in your voice. “My father works for him, tell him Adom’s child comes to seek a hearing.”

“Sure. I’ll do that,” she said sarcastically, clearly irritated, before tacking on the end, “like I can just go up to Amun on earth.”

 _Think, think, think,_ you commanded yourself, turning away from the woman. An idea sparked - terribly wicked, and questionably ethical, but it would have to do. You turned back to her.

“Could I have your name, please?” You requested. She looked skeptical, but gave it anyway.

“Selma, daughter of Ahaouty.”

“Now, please step aside,” you said quietly, and though she appeared horrified, she stepped aside. With a wave of your hand, your hold on her could have been broken, but you couldn’t let that happen - not until you spoke with the King. Racing up the steps, you only stopped to give a cursory glance back to Selma, who was trying to get her mouth to open. Giggling, you tried reminding yourself that you shouldn’t have done magic in the first place, and that it was very rude to giggle.

The run to the courtroom gave you enough time to sober up, climbing up various staircases and through halls full of guards, some of whom you even recognized. Not giving them enough time to even question who you were, you burst through the doors of the courtroom, finding the mayor and the King engrossed in a game of Senet. The two looked up at you, the mayor clearly horrified, and the King mostly looking pissed off.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, loud and demanding as he stood. Clearing your throat, and attempting to make yourself look smaller, you tried answering.

“Memphis was sacked in your absence. Your sons escaped with a handful of people, they should be here within a few days. They sent me ahead to warn you.”

Barely giving you the time to finish, he raced out the door, leaving you with the mayor. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, stepping in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Piye,” you answered hesitantly, unsure of what he wanted.

“… Really? That’s my name,” he said, nodding his head as though your answer was satisfactory.

“It’s… a good.. name.”

“… Yeah.”

He sent you away, directing one of his servants to show you to a guest room. It was certainly a nice room, you noticed as the servant left you with a bow. Nice, arching windows with a smooth floor and well decorated walls. You might’ve appreciated it more, had the uncertainty of Ahkmen and Adom’s fate not been squeezing your thoughts dry. 

Not three minutes later, and a servant, a different one this time, came knocking on your door. Keeping her head high, she informed you that your presence was requested at a meeting. You kept your surprise to yourself as she led you there, wondering when the Pharaoh’s opinion on you changed from ‘get that thing away from me,’ to ‘best invite them to an important meeting.’

This room was much smaller than the courtroom you’d initially seen him in. No windows, lit only by dim rushlight****. A long table took up a good chunk of the space in the room, chairs surrounding it, filled by superiors, and at the head - Merenkahre himself. 

“Sit,” he commanded, and you obliged, sitting across from the mayor. “Tell us all you know.”

“I’m, uh, afraid, my King, I know very little. I was ordered by Kahmuh not to return to the city. He thought it may endanger the remaining citizens.” 

You watched as a subtle expression of either anger or horror grow on his face, and in your own fear you continued.

“Around twenty of us escaped, including your sons and myself, and a few guards.”

He nodded, intense eyes set low as he thought over his situation. 

“We need time,” one of his advisors spoke, and he turned to her, listening intently. “Our best shot is to find out who the enemy is - it’ll help us decide how to proceed. If it’s just ruffians, we’d rush the city, for example. Different armies have different strategies.”

“You’re right, but it’ll take too long. A siege is our best bet. I’ll take the soldiers I took from Memphis, and half of Thebes, travel by nile.”

“With all due respect, I think we need our army, especially after what has now occured. What if their next target is Thebes?” A man beside you said.

Once again, the Pharaoh grew quiet, contemplating for any easy answer. For a moment all that passed was silence, till he stood, grabbing your elbow and pulling you outside to speak in private. Your first reaction was that you’d done something wrong, that he blamed you for the absence of his children, but instead he only looked worried.

“I know Adom’s secret,” he whispered to you, and the realization crashed into you. He knew of his magic?

“The…” you didn’t want to say it aloud, so you made an odd gesture with his hands. There was no possible way he could’ve understood what it meant, but he nodded anyway.

“I am praying you have that gift as well. Without Thebes’ army, I can’t even begin to think about taking back Memphis. But,” he poked you in the chest, “if I can promise them a savior… they may believe me. And we may win back our home.”

It was a clever choice of words, but you supposed he needed to have that talent. _We_ win back _our_ home, raising you up from being called an ‘it’ to being a supposed savior. However, the twist of words didn’t mean anything when things were in such a dire state. So you agreed - and in an instant, he relaxed, smiling at you for the first time. Quickly assigning you a task, he reentered the meeting, dismissing you to your assigned room. 

Several hours later you received the message that you were to look after the brothers once they reached the city, and that Merenkahre had left his wife and a few advisors, including you, behind to travel to Memphis. It was a lot of information to absorb, that you were now more or less at the mercy of Piye (the mayor - not you) and whatever he may wish of you, and Shepseheret, though the only interactions you’d had with her were quite nice.

As expected, by the next morn news of his departure had reached the city in general, and as the next few days passed, you kept busy staying by Shepseheret’s side. She had no need for you, and told you this many times, but you didn’t have a place - something you weren’t used to. For the most part, however, she let you tag along to her dinners and spa treatments. It wasn’t till your sixth, or was it seventh? day there that the survivors entered the city, the bright gold tresses and sullen makeup catching the eye of many guards, most of whom ran into the palace, alerting everyone in sight that there were lost nobles entering.

Hearing these shouts you raced from listening to Shepseheret’s personal servant going on about salaries, wind blasting past your ears as you skipped down the steps four at a time, racing to the front gate of the city. Spotting you through the crowd, Ahkmen forced himself through the growing crowd, practically smacking into you with the tightest, most forceful hug you’d ever embraced so happily. Your chest ached with the impact, or maybe it was only with your longing - either way, it wasn’t till a long time had passed that you let each other ago. 

“I missed you,” you finally murmured, your throat tight as you clutched the cloth on his back.

“As did I. I was worried… well, you know. That you wouldn’t make it,” he spoke just as softly, releasing you slightly, still holding you against him. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“You know to think higher of me,” you chuckled.

“You’re pretty weak, I dunno,” he shrugged, forcing giggles out of the both of you. Trailing with slow steps, you followed the crowd of nobles, a crowd you noticed had not decreased in size in the least. In easy conversation you caught him up with your trip to the city, what had occurred once the news reached the Pharaoh’s ear, and what you’d done in the lonely six days more it had taken them. He ended up getting the room next to yours - something both of you were excited about, but never to each other. Instead, you mostly bullied each other, till night caused the two of you to part, sleeping beside each other, with only a foot thick wall in the way. Not fantastic, but better than a desert.

“Will I see you in the morning,” he asked, standing far too close to you as you stood outside your room that evening, “or will you be magically gone?”

“I’ll be returning the guards’ sword in the morning, but you will see me. I’m afraid I can’t magically disappear,” you replied cheekily, feeling as though the sudden closeness was naught but natural. Usually the two of you kept a respectful distance, which was expected of good friends - but you didn’t mind the touch. Somehow, it wasn’t odd in any way. He scoffed, shaking his head, but still smiling. With a pat to your shoulder, he said good night, and you parted for the evening. 

When the sun rose you did as you told you would do; returned the sword of a very pleased guard, who bowed in thanks. Afterwards, glancing down mostly empty halls, you tried to find your suddenly absent friend. He wasn’t in his quarters, nor was he in the dining area, or even in the kitchen. You couldn’t find him on any balconies either (which was something you had learned earlier that he loved - something about wind), or outside in the gardens. No, instead, you found him embroiled in an argument between his mother and his brother, all three of them somehow disagreeing with each other person. It felt like an awful thing to interrupt, who knew what Kahmuh would do to you, so you turned, and you left.

 _That’s none of my business_ , you thought to yourself, grimacing.

Instead, you stayed in the gardens, watching birds flit by in the bright sunlight. Through the irrigated river fish would swim by your feet, the bench you sat on right at the waters edge. Turning your attention to the clouds, drifting by with the gentle breeze, you tried to ignore the footsteps getting closer to you. Maybe they weren’t headed for you -

“Piye, there you are,” said an awfully familiar voice; one that you did not like hearing too often. Maybe he was talking to the mayor you hadn’t noticed standing right beside you, but, then again, he wasn’t standing next to you. So at last you turned your tired expression towards Kahmuh who looked positively fuming. At least you could enjoy the image of his childish anger.

He sat beside you, his leg jiggling in his anxious state.

“You know my brother rather well, right?” He asked, and you nodded with a hum. “Could you hazard a guess as to why I get blamed for _everything_?”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t know that. That has to do with your parents and I don’t think they like me,” you said, nodding to yourself but not meeting his eye.

“Not hard to figure out why,” he muttered to himself before continuing with the pertinent conversation. “There must be something that makes him more likable than me!”

“For one he’s nicer, and he treats others as his equal.”

“See, I’ve never understood that,” he said, his lisp beginning to come out in his unchecked anger. “We _aren’t_ equals to others, we’re the blood of Gods and Goddesses, what we say is rule. I shouldn’t _have_ to treat others as I treat myself.”

“You could at least treat your parents with the same respect you show yourself. They are, technically, not even your equals. They’re higher than you.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands, letting them drag over his skin and pull at it.

“I could tell you the truth if you’d like, but I worry for my life,” you chuckled, a teasing tone, but he took you far too seriously. From there he requested you tell the truth, the whole truth, and disregard his royalty.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you told him nervously.

“Just do it, okay?!”

“Alright, alright,” you hissed, taking a deep breath. Where to start?

“You’re insecure,” you decided to begin with. “You aren’t sure of yourself and somehow you’ve blamed that diffidence on those around you, even though the only root is the lack of love you get from your parents, which is really _your_ doing. Maybe you’re simply insecure because your brother is more handsome than you, or something, but clearly you’ve hated him since he was born, which has led to even _more_ fragility in yourself and your masculinity. You’re unsure of yourself and of the world, so you try to take control of it but it doesn’t work because you aren’t respected by your people or your parents. _That’s_ because you’re insolent.”

After that sentence you couldn’t continue, not with the hand tightening around your neck, and the obsidian knife pressed into your stomach, almost breaking the skin there. You kept yourself calm - there was nothing he could do to hurt you. Then again, just because you wouldn’t die, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. 

“I’d advise you don’t murder someone, especially not in the gardens. Can’t clean up blood from dirt, and it clashes terribly with the sand,” drawled Piye, the mayor, who had shortly occupied your thoughts not moments earlier. With as much ferocity as he’d pulled it on you, he sheathed his dagger, releasing you with a slight push and stomping away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him, brushing yourself off and rubbing the area he’d poked you.

“It’s alright,” he said with a knowing smile. “Us ‘Piye’s’ have to look out for each other.”

He left after a short conversation with you, mostly discussing what you’d done to anger the prince in the first place. You didn’t linger in the garden long, the energy suddenly putting you off. Perhaps the kitchens would fare better times - yes, you thought to yourself - the kitchens would do nicely. If Kahmuh attempted to approach you again, you could simply put bread in your mouth, and excuse yourself by gesturing that you couldn’t speak.

Upon entering the doors of the kitchen, you suddenly remembered what had brought you to the gardens in the first place, leading to your encounter, and your subsequent trip to the kitchens. Finding Ahkmen, who was currently crouched in the corner, probably crying, and holding a jug full of wine in his drooping left hand. With cautious steps you came over, grabbing the drink from him and setting it on the floor before he could drop and spill it. Servants and cooks looked warily over at the pair of you, and in return you smiled, which put them off a little bit.

“Hey,” you said softly, setting your hand on his shoulder and trying to get him to face you. He wouldn’t, instead burying his head deeper into his arms crossed over his knees, brought up to his chest.

“He’s really, really… such an asshole,” he mumbled, muffled by his arms. You leaned in closer.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kah-m! You don’t… like him, do you? God, he’s so.. conniving-mmnnm.. I wouldn’t put it ‘bast’ him t’ turn you against me,” he slurred, his limbs suddenly flopping open and onto the floor.

“You’re drunk,” you noted blandly, furrowing your brow slightly. He giggled, still not looking up at you.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You look awful.”

“Don’t I always?” He questioned, finally looking up with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Let’s get you out of here,” you said with a grunt, raising him to his feet and nodding towards the kitchen staff for their patience. This time, they answered with tiny smiles.

“Avoiding the quesssstion, I see,” he grumbled, leaning into you far too much. With him practically nuzzling into you, you headed down the path you knew took you to your room. Not that you were actually taking him there - his room was right across from yours, and he needed to take a nap. Day drinking was a terrible habit to get into. 

Kicking open the door, you set him on the bed, and making sure he couldn’t see past your back, you flicked a few ingredients into existence. Main problem was rehydration, you thought, filling the tall glass with water, adding into it chamomile and ginger. Not the best tasting, but it was a cure you’d learned from Adom after seeing him use it on the Pharaoh periodically after feasts. Swirling it around, you waited till the ingredients fully seeped into the warm water, turning to Ahkmen as you did so. 

He hung upside down off the bed, wig on the floor and his necklace dangling in front of his face. Sighing, you helped him up as he protested.

“Drink this,” you told him, helping him sit straight and not sway. Rolling his eyes, he took the drink from you, gagging when he swallowed it down in one gulp.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re not supposed to drink it that fast,” you chuckled, sitting beside him and stilling his sway as he leaned into you once more. You looked him up and down, just a quick glance to check if he was alright, you told yourself. In a soft voice, you asked, “what were you and your mother and brother arguing about?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, that. Mother tried to, um, tell him that, uh, tell him something about my father being, um.. really upset, about something… something about royal, um… duty. ’N Kahm’ said it was all _my_ fault, but mam was buying NONE of that shit. Thank the Gods, right? Anyway, uh… Kahm’ got pretty mad, guess I don’ blame him.”

Through that prolonged sentence you picked out what the argument was about - punishment for Kahmuh for the loss of Memphis. Not something to be taken lightly, but in all technicalities it really wasn’t his fault. Not the way you looked at it, at least, though the boy did need to be put in his place. 

“I see,” you said, even if you didn’t really see what had upset him so greatly.

“Yeah, whole situation was… just ridiculous,” he grumbled, falling back onto the bed. You watched, unwilling to join, till he tugged harsh on your arm, making you fall next to him. Shifting uncomfortably, you stayed where you were.

“Why’d you get drunk?” You asked, glancing at him sparingly.

“Oh, yeah. He said.. somethin’ about you. Wasn’t very nice,” he said, growing quieter as he fidgeted with the material of his skirt.

“… what was it?”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking..?”

“No, wait,” he sat up suddenly, patting your bare stomach as he did so, “I meant I _purposefully_ didn’t tell you. It’s a bad idea.” He leaned in as he said his last words, the stench of alcohol coming quite ripe off of him, making you shrivel up your nose.

“Why’s that?”

“Secrets, my dear,” he murmured, lying back on the bed with a great sigh. As his breathing slowed you stood, maneuvering him so his head rested on the pillow. An hour from now he’d be sober, you told yourself, which would be in time for dinner. No one needed to see a drunk prince. 

+

“Is it bothering you?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet in the dead of night. Maybe letting him sleep in your room for the night was a mistake - he’d asked, so naturally your first instinct was to comply. Now he lay on the floor at your bedside, a few blankets and a pillow on the ground for his comfort. Moonlight kept the room alight just enough for you to see the outlines of your bed, and the ceiling, and if you bothered to look down, you would probably be able to see him. 

“Is what bothering me?” You asked in return, keeping a dull tone as you stared at the ceiling. 

“You know,” he came up, resting his head on the edge of the bed and looking at you with doe eyes. You looked over at him. “Your father.”

 _Oh_. You weren’t expecting him to really think about you, at least not in the terms of where he’d be worried about your well-being, especially concerning the people you were close with. In fact, the question had taken you by surprise enough that you didn’t answer.

“Piye?”

“Uh, yeah. Guess so. I’ll get over it,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your hands. In the darkness, you could barely see them above the sheets. 

“He’s a strong guy. I’m sure he’s vanquishing my fathers enemies as we speak,” he joked, his tone lilting playfully as his head tilted to the side. Tips of his short hair tickled at your shoulder.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said, shifting into a more comfortable position, his shoulders now visible above the edge of the bed.

“Why’d you ask to sleep in my room?”

In dim light you saw him tense up, the color in his face getting darker but indistinguishable in the cloak of night. Knitting his fingers together, he tried to answer, once, then twice, opening his mouth with nothing coming out. The third time he tried, he found an answer.

“Just wanted some company,” he replied softly, his hand untangling and reaching up to you. With a touch you could barely feel, he tucked a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without his wig, but he always saw your natural hair. White as death, Kahmuh had once called it, but Adom never wore a wig, and implored you to accept yourself as you were. And, well, you trusted Adom far more than you trusted Kahmuh. For the most part, Ahkmen didn’t comment on it, but you knew he noticed. Now more so than most times. 

“Good enough reason,” you mumbled. “You comfortable on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied as you turned to face him. His hand remained close to your face, just shy of touching. 

“Sure about that?”

“There’s not much of an alternative,” he snorted.

You remained quiet. In that silence, mild insinuations occurred, mostly consisting of eye twitches and nods of heads. Slowly he rose from his position on the floor, slipping in beside you underneath covers. You shuffled to make room for him. It was a little odd, being so close to him, especially since this was your first time. One could complicate the situation with all the intense emotions felt beforehand and after, and during, and all the dread that had occurred leading up to the moment, but in all honesty, it was just two children. Two very frightened children, who had no idea where their fathers were. With closed eyes you faced each other, drifting into sleep as his hand reached for yours, falling short by mere centimeters. 

+

For a month now you’d heard nothing, not that you’d expected to. It took an army to walk from Thebes to Memphis quite a while, and though a barge was much faster, there weren’t enough to supply such a massive amount of people. Fifteen days passed and you safely assumed they’d arrived in the city, and thus you began to wonder how long the fighting would last before message would be sent, or if any message would be sent at all. Ahkmen seemed rather confident in both the army and his father, while Kahmuh thought their father was incompetent. Shepseheret expressed no opinion; at least, not to you. As the days seemed to grow longer you found yourself less interested in the affairs of others and more preoccupied in your own anxiety. Much of your time was spent alone, which was to Ahkmen’s quiet chagrin.

His behavior had turned a different direction from yours. Maybe it was the difference in the way the both of you were raised, or maybe it was because the two of you were simply very different people. Either way, he began to socialize more, talking to any servant that passed by and attempting half desperately to get you to talk to him. You supposed it would probably be healthy for you to indulge once in a while, to avoid the isolation, but you couldn’t find the energy within yourself to do so.

“You’ve changed,” said Ahkmen one day, catching you napping midday in your room. You had been asleep for most of the day, actually, until he’d so rudely awakened you by pulling the blankets off of you and opening the curtains to expose bright sunlight. You groaned as he did this.

“No shit,” you grumbled, burying your face in the soft pillows. 

“Come on, it’s not healthy to.. do whatever it is you’re doing. I want to go for a walk,” he said, jumping onto your bed and straddling you as you still lay on your stomach.

“I’m not stopping you.”

“I want to go with _you_ ,” he practically whined, tugging at your hair. Mumbling incoherently, you pushed him off of you, sitting up with tired eyes. Sighing, he stood once more.

“Well I don’t want to walk. I want to go back to sleep. I did my fair share of walking,” you mumbled, falling back onto the pillows after pointing a vindictive finger at him. 

His attempts at getting you to move didn’t stop there - if you didn’t know better, you would think he was trying to annoy you to death. But no, that’s just who he was. Indescribably annoying while at the same time far too caring. Sometimes, often when he was dragging you places, you wished you’d never met him.

Days grew long and uneventful as he came to the conclusion that you weren’t open for talking about anything, or doing anything. Every now and then he would sit in your room and study while you either carved or slept; the two activities that took up the majority of your time. 

“I think Memphis is much more entertaining than here,” he said one day, looking up from his scriptures.

“Better gardens,” you added in a mumble, half asleep.

“Good view of the Aur, too. Closer to the sea.”

“Mmm.”

Somewhere around the two month marker a messenger came, dirty but unharmed, note in hand. Piye 2, as Ahkmen affectionally titled him (the mayor hated it), read the note aloud to the courtroom at large, which consisted of several servants, a few nobles, the princes, their mother, and you. 

“I am writing to inform you that I and the militia I have been supplied with have arrived safely to Memphis. Outside the city, opposite the nile is a mass grave. I write this upsetting news in hopes that I will, at some point, be able to identify those who have died in this attack. We have not yet found any lone groups that may have escaped - I suspect they may have fled to another city, or that they have been either imprisoned or killed.

“From the vantage point upon a nearby hill I have found what I believe to be Nubians inhabiting the city. As much as I loathe to say this, we may have provoked this attack, though with the violence given I plan to return with just as much vigor and might.

“I hope all is well in your city. Share this letter as you see fit; tell my wife that I miss her and that I am sure of the safe return of our home. Relay the same message to my sons.”

A mass grave wasn’t exactly a comforting image, thought, or idea, and as much as you began to despise those who had dug that grave, you reminded yourself that the kings of the past had done the same to them. Nearly too deep into your own thoughts, you only came back to reality as Kahmuh rushed past you and out of the room. Most everyone stared at him as he did so, wondering what in the letter, or in his thoughts, could have provoked such a temper in him.

“Well,” Piye cleared his throat, “dinner is in a few hours.” With that, those remaining left. You left to your room, as usual, this time with Ahkmen trailing behind you.

“There’s still hope, you know,” he spoke soft but firm, holding your upper arm to keep you from locking yourself in your room. He stopped you right in front of your door, looking up at you with an expression far too confident for your liking.

“I _know_ he’s alive. You don’t need to assure me,” you bit back, pulling yourself harshly out of his grip and slamming the door behind you as you entered. His words only made that sick feeling in your gut worse, tugging your heart to be just as sickly as your thoughts. He followed you into the room before you thought to barricade the door. In the moment you hadn’t realized, but you fell to the ground, your hands gripping tight at your hair. Swallowing thickly, you watched him come closer till he knelt before you.

“I’m sorry, for my words,” he apologized slow and quiet. “I’m not used to such… disaster. Not an excuse, I know. But it is an explanation as to why I suck at this.” He chuckled, heartlessly, a laugh that you did not join in. 

Sighing, he sat beside you, leaning into you and gently untangling your hands from your hair, till the only pressure you felt was his head on your shoulder. Though your entire mind felt like the color black, as though it would collapse upon itself, you let yourself breathe. 

Several more weeks passed before the next message came, telling the nobles, as well as the royal family and you, that passage returning to the city would be safe. The exact details of what had happened were murky, as the Pharaoh said he would explain the full situation later, when everyone was safely in their home. 

As arrangements were being made for a barge to sail the 22 survivors back to Memphis, you were allowed to sit in on meetings. 

“It’s rather even, actually,” one of Piye’s advisors told him, holding a tablet in front of him. “Three boats, around three days supply of food. Little extra, just as a precautionary tidbit - it can be ready within the hour, sir.”

“And a crew to man each boat?”

“Um - well, that… it’d be easier if the guests rowed themselves. It’d cut down the number of boats, the time it takes, as well as the food supply necessary.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Piye cleared his throat curtly, laying his folded hands on the table. “Make arrangements for a crew as well.”

With a curt nod, the advisor stepped to the side, conversing with several people before returning. For the rest of the meeting, you only retained the pertinent information - five boats, now, with four days supply of food for much more than 22 people. By next morn you sat behind Ahkmen and Kahmuh, the shade allowing for comfort as several people logged the boat into the nile, beginning to row the people and the food back home. 

“Let’s hope for an uneventful and fast trip back to Memphis,” Kahmuh muttered, mostly to himself, though he was overheard by both you and his brother. Staying silent, Ahkmen simply nodded his agreement. You showed no acknowledgement that you’d heard him. 

For the first day things went rather smoothly, clouds shadowing and allowing for those rowing to do so in a slightly more comfortable environment. By the second day several people were complaining about the speed, as well as the fact that they had to ‘save food’, to which Kahmuh tried to politely explain that they weren’t saving food. They were extending it so it would last them till the end of their journey, something most of them simply couldn’t understand. By the third day, you were desperate to get this venture over with. Sure, returning to the city, seeing Adom again would be fantastic, but dear _God_ you wished you’d gone alone. Ten days of walking alone was better than another minute with the overly pompous and far too glorified rich people that now surrounded you. 

Come the end of the third day the land around you became recognizable, as you docked off on a nearby stretch of dry, shadowed land. Growing tall and undisturbed, date palms swayed in gentle wind as blankets were strung about for both sleeping and protection from weather. On the first day, you remembered fondly yet annoyed that most people thought that Ahkmen and Kahmuh should sleep together. In fact, they thought this to be so true in their minds that the brothers were forced to sleep together for the night. No sleeping was actually done, by _anyone_ , and from then on they slept separately. You tried to find humor in the whole situation, but what with the discomfort of the day, and the slow movement of the landscape passing you by, it was more infuriating than funny. 

As you got closer to seeing your father again, your mood lightened drastically. And, as you sat in your own thoughts, you felt worse and worse for your treatment of what was once a very good friend. You and Ahkmen hadn’t spoken much, not since you’d lashed out and he tried to comfort you. Sure, his attempt wasn’t worthless, but it couldn’t be worth more than a few silver rings. He was right; he wasn’t very good at comfort. Either way, he had avoided speaking in length to you, and you’d done relatively the same, not actively avoiding but certainly nor pursuing.

 _I should apologize for my behavior_ , you thought to yourself as a few of the servants and guards set up tents and blankets on the ground. He sat underneath a date tree, leaning against the hard wood and admiring one of the flowers that had grown in the sand at his feet. Though a small smile tugged at his lips, he remained mostly stoic, unreadable chaos behind his eyes.

Gulping, you stepped forward, readying yourself for any outcome of the coming conversation. He could easily forgive you - he was that sort of person, kind and fair, and understanding. Yet he was also a prince, and spoiled, so there was also the chance that he would never partake in the enjoyment of your company again. 

“Ahk, hey,” you began with, keeping your voice low as you sat beside him.

“Oh, hi,” he said, smiling as you did so. 

“I, um,” you hesitated, trying to find the right words as your eyes stayed fixed on the flower petals Ahkmen was currently tracing with his fingers, “I want to apologize, for my behavior the past few days. I never meant to hurt you, and I don’t have an excuse, nor an explanation other than I was anxious and worried.”

He chuckled, turning to look at you with just as dopey a smile as he did many moons ago.

“Piye, you don’t need to apologize. I understand. I just thought you might want some space, so I gave you some,” he explained softly, patting your shoulder with his hand.

“Oh.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he murmured, cuddling up to you and holding your arm as though he was hugging it. You could do little but hum an acknowledgement, wondering how to fully express your appreciation for his forgiveness. Maybe you could —

He began to snore, softly, as you knew he only did in comfortable sleep. 

“Must be tired,” you mumbled to yourself, looking down at his crown-less head. As comfortable or warm as he might’ve been, it wouldn’t do well for your spine tomorrow if you were to stay like that the rest of the night. So for a while you let him sleep, staring up at the heavens and wondering if you had any pull or say in your own life. After you’d fully gotten over that, gently you shook him awake, causing him to mumble incoherently and grip you tighter.

“You need to lie down,” you said, and he mumbled a bit more, but didn’t protest when you helped him to his feet. Directing him, his eyes half lidded through the camp, you set him down beneath a tented blanket. 

“Sleep with me,” he slurred, grasping your hand in his. You contemplated it, but came to no conclusion before he pulled you down, collapsing you to your knees.

“Fine,” you half grumbled, settling yourself in. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“Mm. No need,” he murmured, quickly falling back asleep once more. 

When the sun arose in the morn, the guilt that had been bothering you had vanished in a rather neat fashion. He woke first, helping with the various things he could help with. Granted, he wasn’t very strong, so he couldn’t help with major heavy lifting, but he did help with taking down the tents. You watched, too tired to move. Once the sun was fully visible in the sky, Ahkmen pulled you to your lazy feet, and you boarded the boat in hopes of a short trip home.

As short as the trip really was (you kept track of the time by looking for the sun behind the clouds that had amassed) it felt longer than ever, your excitement regarding your return elongating the time that passed seemingly slower than ever. You tried to pass the time by having small games with Ahkmen, but the both of you were rather distracted.

“I miss my vases,” he commented to you around noon, his voice quiet to avoid the attention his brother.

“Seriously? That’s what you miss?”

“Well they’re very beautifully done!”

“… Uhuh.”

The two of you chuckled, quiet but certainly there. In front of you Kahmuh rolled his eyes and let out a soft grunt, which only spiraled you into an even worse fit of laughter. Still, you tried to retain an ounce of dignity and self respect, though that was quickly going down the drain. 

When at last the dredges of civilization, the very edge of what you knew to be a grand city came into view, the citizens hidden away within the small structures of the boats came out in their awe and excitement for quiet celebration. The energy on the boats was beginning to grow, and suddenly the nobles didn’t care for the food that had been dwindling away. Much better food awaited them in the city, and as it came into the sight, the ruins and burning houses of the poor did little to stifle their happiness. As long as their homes, way up in the center of the city were unharmed, you noticed that they couldn’t possibly care less about the lower citizens.

“Sad sight,” you commented to Ahkmen, who was furrowing his brows together as he stared at the charred homes. 

“I can hardly believe it really happened, but, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.”

Eventually, you docked more near the center of the city, the large palace towering in the distance. Excitement trilled through your fingers, making you antsy as you stepped off the barges after the princes. 

“Well, besides all the blood, still looks like home,” Kahmuh noted on the blood splattered walls of downtown, taking higher streets before coming before the main attraction - the palace. Skipping the pleasantries, you squeezed Ahkmen’s hand, motioning forward. He nodded, and you left towards your room. Adom had to be waiting there; receiving people, guests or family, was not a formality he was ever included in. As you got closer you began to run, the excitement bubbling through your stomach and getting to your head. What new stories would he have to tell? He always had such an entrancing way of telling them, and an invasion would surely be one of his best yet.

Before you could actually make it to your room, you were stopped by a servant boy, who held parchment in his hand.

“Uh - excuse me, please stop,” he said as you tried to make your way past him, the door right in your sight. 

“What, what is it?” You asked hurriedly, finally looking down at him, your breathing slightly heavy from the running.

“A message, from the Pharaoh,” the boy told, handing you the parchment.

 _What in the hell does he want now?_ You asked yourself, unravelling it as the boy left. 

_To whom it may concern;_

_I have the unfortunate task of notifying all surviving family members and friends that Adom has passed, giving his life to protect our great city. His burial will be presided over in the highest fashion, the smallest honor I may give him._

And there it ended. Not signed, the most impersonal message possible, without even a mention of your name. It couldn’t be right - maybe they’d found someone else’s body, or maybe this was the wrong name, or perhaps…

You could already feel your face draining of blood, a horrid, putrid sickness feeding off your doubt and crawling beneath your skin. 

With slower footsteps you made your way to the throne room, where you knew the Pharaoh held court often. As you thought more and more about how wrong the Pharaoh had to be, the faster you began to walk, till you sprinted down the hallways, the dull pounding of your heart barely affecting you through the rush of the wind. 

Entering, the Pharaoh sat upon his throne, looking regal as ever, his sons at his side and the nobles at his feet. He was obviously imparting to them some information, most likely about the invasion, and what they should do in the event of a loss of property. That didn’t matter to you right now, though, anger boiling through your veins till all you wanted in the whole wide world was to punch your Pharaoh. 

He noticed you almost immediately, your energy clearly different and stifling compared to the emotion of the rest of the room.

“What is this?” You asked, holding the parchment that you hadn’t realized you crumpled in your hand out to him.

“Ah. That. I thought it’d be best to inform you of your fathers’ death before you found out by some other means.”

“You mean you weren’t even planning on telling me originally?! What was I supposed to do, assume he was wandering around the city?!”

“Um, Piye -“ Ahkmen tried to stop you, stepping forward, before he was held back by his brother, who tutted his disapproval. 

“I will not be spoken to in this manner. I did as I saw fit. I am paying for him to have the proper funerary services. Do not direct your grief at me,” the Pharaoh spoke, suddenly sounding a lot more commanding than you’d ever heard before. This new tone did not deter you.

“You couldn’t have sent a letter, when you found his body? I know you must’ve seen it, it’s not like he’s hard to find since he’s a fucking mutant like me! Why couldn’t you have told me earlier?!”

“You shouldn’t speak to your king like that,” Kahmuh said, stepping in front of Ahkmen and looking at you in a rather condescending way.

“No rightful King would treat a human like this!’

You were starting to lose control of yourself, you could tell. The last time you felt this lost in your own emotion was before you went on your mission, and now it seemed as though it was all for naught. Not only were you losing grip of yourself, but your accusations were becoming outlandish, and you knew it, but somehow you continued, trapped within your own mind as you yelled profanities. Your heart hammered in your chest, anger swelling in your aura. 

“Guards! Take this thing out into the desert. Do not let it return into the city,” Kahmuh hissed once he realized you were not going to back down.

“What? No, you can’t - surely there’s a better way to do this,” Ahkmen cried, trying to grasp your hand as you were tangled in the arms and spears of soldiers. With his elder brother in the way, he couldn’t reach. You tried to fight back, tried to assure your friend that you’d be alright, but you couldn’t manage it. 

The Pharaoh did nothing. As much trust as he had put into you to guard Thebes and his sons, he watched as you were dragged away, banished from the only place you’d ever called home.

**Author's Note:**

> After the siege, I wanted to write a lot about your journey and about political meetings n all that, but I know people read this for the Ahk content, so I skimmed a lot of it.  
> Thanks for reading anyway! I know it's long, I'm really sorry  
> Edit: nvm on the part two, I'm not gonna write all that storyline if no one's gonna read it. I wasn't especially excited for it anyway :/


End file.
